your poetry really is difficult to translate. it's almost like . . . (insert thinking pause) unraveling a sweater. but i thought i'd try my hand at it anyway, as a gesture of sorts. and there you go.

s.

Ours is a civilization of lightweight luggage, of permanent disjunction. Everybody seems to be departing or returning from somewhere.—David Lodge, Small World, p. 507.

This is a translation of my 1 Oct 2005 poem-posting "october arrives" into French. It was translated by Sonya Malaborza in Moncton (who translated the La Batture playscript that i saw/heard last night). What a gift! I hope that your readers appreciate this as much as do I. Merci beaucoup.